


Changes

by sparxwrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer!Lucifer, Human Castiel, Human Lucifer, M/M, Nail Polish, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:29:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don’t want you to call me ‘he’ any more," announces Lucifer, one morning over breakfast.</p>
<p>(A little triptych of drabbles about genderqueer!Lucifer.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nail Polish

**Author's Note:**

> So I was talking to sanity-was-never-an-option about genderqueer Lucifer and I’ve been craving Charlie-Lucifer interactions for a month or so now and then this happened. Oops.

Sam comes back from doing the grocery shopping to find Lucifer and Charlie sitting at the kitchen table, various bottles of nail polish spread across it’s scarred surface and a small one of pale blue-silver open in Charlie’s hands.

"Having a slumber party?" he asks, smiling, dumping the carrier bags hanging off his arms down by the bottom of the fridge and pushing damp hair out of his face - the weather’s not terrible at the moment, but it’s windy and drizzling and he’d had a minute’s walk from the car to the shop and then back again, which had been more than enough to make him mildly soggy.

Lucifer hums thoughtfully in reply and Charlie, tongue between her teeth and nose wrinkled in an expression of concentration, says, “We’re making Lucifer look pretty.”

For a second, Sam thinks she’s joking. Then he looks properly, sees the slight shimmer of Lucifer’s nails under the lights of the room, and fights the urge to either laugh or stare in confusion - he doesn’t think either reaction would be particularly appreciated by Lucifer or Charlie.

Charlie’s already painted one of Lucifer’s hands, is halfway through the second, and they seem to be doing some kind of pattern - alternating between the pale blue-silver polish Charlie’s just put down and the shimmering dark blue one she’s just picked up.

(If Dean were here, he’d call it TARDIS blue, because he’s a dork like that. Because Sam is most determinedly  _not_  a dork, at least not on the level his brother is, he only calls it TARDIS blue inside his own head.)

"I was doing my own nails," says Charlie, wiggling her own fingers, the short nails of which are painted a bright, lacquered red that doesn’t quite match her hair, "and Lucifer was curious." She looks at him, something hard and a little sharp-edged in her eyes, like she’s challenging to say something mean and see what happens.

"Cool," says Sam, carefully, with a smile and a shrug, heading over to the table and looking at her handiwork on Lucifer’s nails so far. They’re not quite done - they need another coat he thinks, although he knows little about nails save what he learned from watching Jess paint hers. "They look really nice."

Charlie huffs out a sigh. “Thanks. I should have filed and smoothed them first, really, but hey ho.”  
Lucifer frowns down at his fingers, and then looks up at Charlie again. “This makeup business is a lot more complicated than I had anticipated,” he says, softly, wrinkling his nose.

"Tell me about it." Charlie laughs, shaking her head. "If you think this is bad, try getting the wings on your eyeliner even, and then manage to apply mascara without smearing it everywhere.  _That’s_  complicated.”

Humming thoughtfully , Lucifer blows gently on his finished hand, trying to encourage the polish to dry quicker, admiring the colours now adorning his fingers. He turns slightly in his seat to see Sam better, watching him with uncharacteristically earnest eyes. “You really think it looks nice?”

"Yeah," says Sam quietly, and the fact that he’s not stretching the truth even a little surprises him. It’s odd to see Lucifer wearing nail polish - odd to see someone that looks like a man wearing nail polish - but Lucifer’s  _not_  a man. He’s a fallen wavelength of celestial intent and, as Castiel has reminded them various times since he’s been fallen, angels are largely indifferent to gender. “It really suits you.”

Smiling, eyes lit up a little with the praise, Lucifer turns back to scrutinising his fingers. “I think I like the paler one best.”

"Matches your eyes," agrees Charlie, thoughtfully, back to squinting at his hands with her tongue between her teeth as she finishes off his ring finger in dark blue. "You can keep it, if you want, I don’t wear it all that much."

Lucifer looks surprised, and then something almost approaching grateful. “Thank you,” he murmurs, reaching out with the hand she’s not currently working on to touch the bulbous curve of the bottle filled with the shimmering liquid. His nails glitter in the light as he moves, and Sam can’t help but smile as he turns away to unload the groceries.


	2. Pronouns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if I've done anything wrong/shitty/offensive, please call me out on it and I will change things. I don't want to upset anyone and I certainly don't want to insult anyone.

"I don’t want you to call me ‘he’ any more," announces Lucifer, one morning over breakfast. Dean’s frying up eggs and bacon - Lucifer’s already got a plate full of them - and Sam’s waiting for his porridge to finish cooking, and both of them turn in surprise at Lucifer’s pronouncement.

After a moment, Dean - because he’s Dean, because sticking his foot in his mouth is sort of what he does - laughs a little. “What the hell do you want us to call you, then, dude? I mean. You’re a man.” He rubs at the back of his neck, frowning at Lucifer.

Lucifer’s face twists into a snarl. “I am not a man! I am not  _human_! It is bad enough that I am trapped in a form that was never meant to contain me and forced to use a language that does not have the words I need, without having to use a pronoun that  _does not accurately describe me_!”

The words are an inch off a shout, and Sam braces himself to intervene.

For a moment, it looks as if Dean’s going to say something stupid, that the conflict is going to escalate into a full-blown fight - but then Dean shakes his head, looks down at the floor with something that could almost be described as a sheepish expression.

"Sorry," he mutters, before turning back to the bacon, that’s going to burn any minute if he doesn’t check on it. "That was sort of a dick comment. Shouldn’t ‘a said it."

Even more surprisingly, Lucifer nods briefly in acknowledgement of Dean’s apology and says nothing more. And that’s the end of that.

"What do you want us to call you, then?" asks Sam, trying to calm the situation any more. Lucifer might not be 

The anger drops off of Lucifer’s face, although there’s still a little residue irritation, uncertainty. “You can use ‘they’, for now,” they say, quietly. “I’m… not entirely sure yet, but that’ll do for now. I’ve been looking at some other- they call them  _personal pronouns._ " They say the words a little like a revelation, rolling them on their tongue. "But I’m not sure which ones I like best yet. ‘They’ will work for now."

"Okay," says Sam, still calm and even, smiling a little. He had to admit, he’d seen something like this coming - Charlie and the nail polish had been the first time he’d really noticed it, but there had been other signs both before then and since. Lucifer’s lingering in the women’s section at the charity shop, the lack of concern when Dean had coined the nickname  _Luci_  with the intention of being irritating…

Over by the steadily frying bacon, Sam sees Dean mouth  _they_  to himself a few times, trying out the word and fitting it into sentences. “As in-” He hesitates, and then plows on. “-as in, ‘This is Lucifer, and they’re not quite as much of a dick as they used to be?’”

Lucifer rolls their eyes, but nods, a grudging smile curling the corner of their mouth. “Yes. Something like that,” they say, the irritation in their voice completely put-on. They’re well used to Dean’s particular brand of humour by now. “I- am aware it’s a big change, and it might be hard for you to remember at first, but I would appreciate if you could try. This is- important to me.”

"Of course," says Sam, and Dean nods in agreement. "I can’t promise I’ll remember all the time straight away, but I’ll try as hard as I can. I can… I get this is important to you."

Castiel takes that opportunity to walk into the kitchen, yawning widely, eyes still mostly gummed shut - they rarely open properly before he gets his first cup of coffee. They’ve discovered that human Castiel is really, really not a morning person. “What’s important?” he asks, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand  to try and clear the sleep from them, kissing the back of Dean’s head with a murmured, “Morning,” as he passes him to get to his coffee.

It’s Sam who speaks up, because Lucifer’s got a mouth full of egg and bacon. “Lucifer’s decided not to be called ‘he’ any more,” he says.

"Oh. Okay." Castiel shrugs a little, setting the coffee machine running, as if people changing pronouns is something that happens every day, and then squints a little at Lucifer. He’s not an angel any more, but there’s still something in his eyes when he concentrates hard that seems a little reminiscent of Grace, as if he can still peer into people’s souls - or perhaps he just needs glasses. Dean’s been talking about getting his eyes checked. "Yes, ‘he’ wasn’t really a good fit at all, was it?"

Lucifer shakes their head in agreement. “No,” they say. “You can call me ‘they’, for now, although I’m not entirely sure I like that either.”  
"There are other options," points out Castiel, putting two slices of toast in the toaster and completely ignoring the looks of surprise Sam and Dean are both giving him, taking another sip of his coffee.

Apparently, the angel who had to be taught how to brush his teeth knows a lot about personal pronouns. 

"Yes, but I’m not sure I like any of  _them_ , either,” mutters Lucifer through slightly gritted teeth - their irritation at the words, not Castiel - as they stab at their fried egg.  
Castiel shrugs again. “Make some up, then,” he says, smiling a little and dragging a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “Pick a couple you like and then we can try a set a day until you find some you like.”

Sam nods, sitting down with his bowl of porridge next to Lucifer. “Good idea,” he says, over his surprise at Castiel’s sudden knowledge of the intricacies of gender expression and presentation. “If you like it?”

Lucifer looks around at the three of them, frowning a little, before the wrinkles on their forehead smooth out and they smile, just a little bit. “Yes,” they say, quietly, nodding, leaning into the slight brush of Sam’s fingers against their wrist. “Yes. I like the idea of that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my hand slipped and I wrote more genderqueer Lucifer oops. Again, please tell me if I’ve messed up or slipped on the pronouns - this is my first time writing with nonbinary ones other than ‘they’.

 “So,” asks Sam, nudging his shoulder against Lucifer’s as they navigate through the lower levels of the shopping mall together, trying to find their way out of the maze that is the car park and into the bit with the actual shops, which is where they need to go, “what pronouns are we trying out today?”

“Zhe,” says Lucifer, a little absently, peering at the number and letter on the wall so they’ll know where they parked the car when they come back – Sam won’t remember it, zhe knows, so it’s up to hir to remember unless they want to be wandering around the car park for half an hour trying to find the Impala after shopping. “Zhe, hir, hirs, hirself.”

Sam nods. “Zhe, hir, hirs, hirself,” he repeats back at Lucifer, before squinting a little, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling as they always do when he’s trying to remember something. Currently, he’s running through all the pronouns Lucifer’s tried out over the past fortnight, something that’s not easy considering several of them sounded reasonably similar and learning a new set of pronouns a day as well as remembering to use them had been surprisingly hard. “Didn’t you try them a few days ago?”

“I tried zhe, zhir, zhirs, zhirself last week,” corrects Lucifer, as they both squash into the elevator, Sam reaching past hir shoulder to press the button for the first floor. “I like zhe better than ze, but I dislike zhir, so I combined them. I rather like it, so far.”  
“Fair enough,” says Sam, shrugging one shoulder. He can see what Lucifer means, a little – he prefers hir as well. Not that it’s any of his business, at the end of the day, though. “Is that a final decision, or are we gonna be trying out new ones tomorrow?”

Lucifer hums thoughtfully, jolting a little as the elevator starts moving. “I think… final decision,” zhe says, “depending on how well they work today. I might-” Zhe pauses, as if wondering whether Sam will be upset with hir for what hir’s about to say next. “-I might change them. Later. In a month, a year… I’m still new to being human, and I-”

Zhe stops talking, abruptly, as if zhe thinks zhe’s said too much already. “It’s extraordinarily, unpleasantly confusing. Things may change.”

The elevator door dings open, and for a moment Sam doesn’t answer because they’re getting out, Lucifer’s hand sliding into his at the sight of so many people as it always does – partly because zhe loves the way Sam’s hands fit hirs, like they were made for each other, and partly as a coping mechanism so zhe doesn’t end up lashing out when people inevitably end up annoying hir.

The apocalypse may be off the cards, but zhe doesn’t have any more love for humans than zhe did when zhe was starting it.

“That’s cool,” Sam says, when they’re safely immersed in the bustle of the crowd. “Just give me a heads up if they do change, okay? Or if you want to do any more experimenting with them.” He smiles, and Lucifer remembers exactly why zhe loves Sam so much. “Why d’you like them better than the other ones?” he asks, curiously.

Lucifer has to think about that for a moment. “Because they’re… soft,” zhe says, and then snorts loudly. “English doesn’t have the right word for it, clumsy language that it is. But they fit well with other English pronouns and don’t sound too out of place. They also sound pleasantly Enochain, too.” Zhe wondered, when zhe’d first come across them, whether it was one of hir fallen siblings that had come up with them.

“They’re more feminine-sounding than some of the others you tried out,” says Sam, a little cautiously. He’s still working out what the right words to use are in certain contexts, which words and phrases are no-go, which ideas are wrong – it’s a learning process, one that he hopes for Lucifer’s sake he’ll master quickly.

“They’re not female,” says Lucifer, a sharply, and Sam holds up his free hand in a pacifying gesture.  
“No, no, woah, that’s not what I was saying,” he says, quickly. “I know they’re not. They’re your pronouns, which makes them… whatever you identify as, I guess.” Lucifer’s still not to put a name to hir gender, other than simply  _angel_. “I was just commenting they sound a little more similar to ‘she’ and ‘her’ than to ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

For a while, Lucifer’s silent, staring at the people passing around them in chattering crowds, before zhe answers. “I seem to identify more towards the feminine end of the spectrum, but I also prefer a reasonably masculine presentation. Having pronouns that reflected that seemed important.” Zhe brings a hand up to rub at the stubble on hir chin, something zhe’s still deciding whether zhe wants to keep – unlike hir flat chest and short hair, which zhe already knows zhe doesn’t want to change right now.

“Right,” says Sam, nodding. “So, we’re looking for feminine-ish clothes, but sort of… tomboyish ones?” he hazards, glancing down at Lucifer for confirmation.  
“Yes,” agrees Lucifer, “although I would quite like a dress. Or maybe a skirt. They look interesting.”  
“I’m sure we can find a dress,” says Sam, easily, “although considering your sizing, along with the fact you’re flat chested, you might have to try a few on to find one that fits okay.”

Lucifer hums thoughtfully in the back of hir throat, smiling a little. The thought of trying lots of dresses on isn’t at all off-putting – quite the opposite, in fact. “Good,” zhe says, and Sam laughs at hir expression, grinning back.  
“And makeup?” he asks, dipping his head a little to press a small kiss to Lucifer’s temple.

Zhe’s not wearing much makeup today; dark blue matte nail polish, dark pencil eyeliner, black mascara, lipstick a natural colour but one tending towards red as hir only flamboyance. Zhe’s still getting the hang of wearing it, working with all the fiddly brushes and pencils and tubes.

“Definitely makeup,” zhe agrees. Zhe’s using Charlie’s things at the moment, although her collection of makeup is reasonably limited, and not entirely to Lucifer’s tastes. “I dislike having to use Charlie’s.” Not that Charlie’s been unpleasant to hir about it – quite the opposite, in fact.

Zhe doesn’t really like humans, still, but the ones in the bunker seem to be the exception – and, after all, Charlie was the one that had introduced hir to the word  _trans_ , had quietly taken hir to one side after they’d both done their nail polish and suggested Lucifer look it up because it might be helpful.

If all humans were more like Charlie, zhe thinks, then they might be mildly less irritating.

“I should get something for Charlie, don’t I?” zhe asks Sam, looking up at him. “It’s… polite.” Zhe wrinkles hir nose at the concept, and Sam laughs again, shaking his head.  
“Might be nice, yeah, considering she’s been so helpful,” he says.

They walk in silence for a little bit, hand in hand through the shopping mall, and it’s a little surprising how little attention they get. One of the things Lucifer’s amazed at even after two weeks is how few people  _say_  anything to hir when zhe’s out in public, make loud comments or even give hir dirty looks.

 Zhe suspects it’s something to do with the fact that zhe’s not been out without Sam by hir side so far. It’s probably hard for people to work up the courage to give hir dirty looks when zhe’s got six foot four inches of muscle standing next to hir, with eyes that go from cute to terrifying in seconds – exactly like hirs can do. The few people who do give hir dirty looks don’t need to be scared away by Sam when they meet Lucifer’s eyes.

Zhe might not be an angel any more, but zhe still has the memories of one, the weight and spirit of the years spent in Heaven, in the Cage, spilling out through hir eyes. It can be overpowering when zhe wants it to be – and zhe definitely wants it to be for anyone who is unpleasant enough to judge hir.

“Where are we going?” zhe asks, frowning at all the shops they’re walking past. There have been a few zhe’s thought look interesting, including one eye-catching display of lingerie. Zhe hadn’t been sure about the bras – they looked uncomfortable, a little strange, and zhe’s not sure zhe wants to look like zhe has breasts – but the underwear had looked pretty. Very pretty.

(Zhe debates distracting Sam later, after they’ve bought some clothes, and coming back to find a pair of panties to buy, changing into them before bed as a surprise for Sam, and decides that that’s an  _excellent_  idea.)

Sam sighs a little. “These shops are all, uh… kind of expensive,” he says quietly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “They’ve got really nice stuff in, but we’ve not got that much money. There’s a couple of thrift stores and cheaper places towards the back.” He pauses, notices the way Lucifer’s eyes track a display window with a couple of extraordinarily pretty – and likely extraordinarily expensive – dresses in it. “We can come back and have a look around here later, if you want, though. It’s just probably best if we get a couple of affordable things first, though.”

Nodding, Lucifer peers at the display until it’s out of sight, before shifting back to Sam’s side. “Okay,” zhe agrees. It’s a sensible suggestion and, although the dresses were wonderful, zhe’d rather have a few outfits of her own than just one of them. Zhe’s been living out of Sam and Dean’s cast-offs so far, and zhe’s getting rather bored of the endless band shirts and slightly-too-big jeans.

Relived that he isn’t going to have to argue with Lucifer about this – because sometimes Lucifer genuinely doesn’t understand things about money and humanity and day to day life, and sometimes zhe likes to pretend zhe doesn’t just to be irritating – Sam gestures to a shop on the right of them. “Here we are,” he says, grinning at Lucifer and bowing. “After you, milordy. Milad?”

Rolling hir eyes, Lucifer untangles their fingers so zhe can bat Sam around the back of his head. “Your highness is more acceptable,” zhe says, voice as haughty as zhe can manage, before smiling a little. “Or just Lucifer,” zhe adds, voice quieter as zhe links arms with Sam and they walk into the shop together. “That’s acceptable, too.” 


End file.
